


Gilan's Hair

by greenho4



Category: Ranger's Apprentice - John Flanagan
Genre: Gen, Not Beta Read, Read at Your Own Risk, i wrote this based on a cursed conversation in the RA server, idk what this is okay, this is probably really cursed, this is really stupid, we find out why gilan doesn't have a hair color
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 02:49:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29627964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenho4/pseuds/greenho4
Summary: Ever wonder why Flanagan never gave us Gilan's hair color? This is why.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 13





	Gilan's Hair

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is....I don't even know what I wrote. It's just....either really bad or really cursed and funny. Unsure yet. Enjoy...?

#  Gilan’s Hair

One day, while they were huddled in Halt’s cabin in Redmont Fief, with only the fire to keep them company, there was a knock on the door.

Will looked up from where he had been mending a tear in his cloak (Or attempting to, anyway. Although Halt had taught him the basics of sewing, he was still a bit clumsy). Outside the cabin, the horses had not reacted to the newcomer, and Will relaxed, knowing it was likely just a messenger.

He went to the door, opening it slightly, peering through the crack to get a better look. To his surprise, it was Gilan, who gave him a friendly wave. Will could see Blaze greeting Abelard and Tug, and went to fetch some more water and oats for them.

When he returned from his short task, Gilan was still standing at the entrance.

“Going to invite me in, Will?” Gilan asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

Will blinked and opened the door wide to let the tall Ranger in. “Oh, right, sorry. I thought you’d just...make yourself at home. You know, like you usually do.”

Gilan smiled easily at him, ruffling his hair. “Just messing with you, Will.”

Will scowled and shouted, “Halt! It’s Gilan.”

“No need to shout. I’m not deaf.” Halt, tucked away in the corner with a blanket around him, grunted a greeting at his former apprentice, but said little else.

“Not deaf  _ yet _ ,” said Will.

Halt glared at him.

“I see you’re as cheerful as ever, Halt,” Gilan said, grinning. Will closed the door behind him.

“Is there an emergency?” Will asked, his face anxious. Although he was no longer a brand new apprentice, he still felt uneasy about dangerous missions. Danger was never a good thing--it usually meant innocent people were dying.

“Nope,” Gilan answered smoothly. “I was just passing through. Didn’t Halt tell you? Our next Ranger Gathering is in a few days.”

Will cast his mentor a side-eye. “No. He did not.”

Halt grunted in reply, pretending he hadn’t seen Will’s glance, and poured himself a cup of coffee from the coffee pot on the table nearby.

“Not in the mood for talking today, Halt?” Gilan asked jokingly.

Will rolled his eyes. “He’s  _ never _ in the mood for talking.”

“That’s true,” said Gilan. He took off his hood, revealing his dark brown hair, which Will noticed was somehow as neat as ever despite traveling on horseback just a few minutes ago. Will strode forward, taking the cloak from Gilan and hanging it onto the hook nearby.

“Thanks, Will,” Gilan said. He settled himself in the remaining chair by the fire, leaving Will to awkwardly lean against the wall.

“So, uh, are you staying the night…?” Will asked hesitantly, hoping the answer would be no. Usually whenever Gilan stayed, he was in the cabin with Halt. Which meant Will was forced outside to sleep in the tent for “training practice.”

Gilan nodded, his eyes twinkling. “I hope you don’t mind.”

Halt scoffed. “If you really hoped that, you would have sent me a message first.”

Gilan ignored him. “It’s nice seeing you again, Will.”

“You, too,” Will grumbled. “I’ll, uh, go outside and tend Blaze. I’m sure he’s tired and needs proper grooming.”

Gilan beamed at him. “You’re the best, Will.”

Will grumbled to himself as he tended to Blaze, brushing his fur with smooth, rhythmic strokes. Blaze snorted softly in appreciation.

“Oh, yes, Will, why don’t you just sleep outside in the tent today, where it’s cold,” Will mumbled, though with no real vitriol. “Yes, let’s not tell Will the Ranger Gathering is in a few days and Gilan will be stopping by.”

With a hefty sigh, Will finished his task and put his tools away, heading back into the cabin to finish sewing his cloak.

However, before he could go in, the door opened, and Gilan exited.

“Ah, Will, I fixed your cloak for you,” Gilan said, showing the article of clothing in his hand. “And now that it’s fixed, I was thinking you could head into town with me? I have to pick up new supplies after losing some in my previous mission.”

“Sure,” said Will. “I take it Halt refused to come?”

“Oh, definitely,” Gilan said, tossing Will’s cloak back to him. “He’s an old man; he needs his rest.”

“I HEARD THAT,” Halt shouted indignantly from inside the cabin.

The two younger men snickered. 

The town was fairly quiet at this time of day. It was getting closer to sunset, and most people were hurrying home. Gilan, however, was taking his time, strolling through the market at a leisurely pace, with Will not far behind him. They had left their horses at the nearby stable to let them rest a bit while Gilan went to collect his supplies.

“Let’s see,” Gilan said, checking off items with his fingers. “Water, food, coffee...I think that’s about it. Just one more item on my list.”

“One more?” Will asked curiously. He could not think of anything else Gilan was missing.

Gilan only smiled at him and gestured for Will to wait outside a shop. “Sorry, but the owner is particular about the people he lets into his shop. You’ll have to wait outside, Will.”

Will raised an eyebrow at him but obeyed, his mind racing. What was Gilan buying that would warrant such a policy? He thought about all the illicit things Gilan could be doing, but then shook his head. Gilan wouldn’t do anything like that.

After a few minutes, Gilan left the shop, a small wrapped bundle in his hand. Will could not make out its shape but before he could ask, Gilan was already striding away, back to their horses.

Will let out a sigh, deciding to let it slide. It was probably for a mission of some sort.

The next day, all three Rangers (well, two Rangers and one apprentice) got up early, rising with the sun. Halt prepared coffee for them while Halt cooked breakfast--eggs and bread. Will was left to pack the gear, including putting away his tent, his back sore and his mood sour. Nonetheless, he mumbled a begrudging “thank you” to Gilan when the tall Ranger handed him a steaming cup of coffee.

Once they were all properly awake and fed, they got on their horses, ready to head to the Ranger gathering. Halt led the way, setting a slow, easy pace. Gilan rode next to him, Blaze nickering to Abelard, who--like his Ranger partner--gave no reply. 

Will brought up the rear, trying to find a comfortable position that would not bring him any more discomfort to his burning muscles.

They ambled along the dirt road, with Gilan and Will occasionally making small talk (Halt, as usual, was silent and grumpy). The weather was disagreeable today, the wind rustling and stirring up debris. Will blinked, trying to shield his eyes from the dust. Tug was feeling no better, making annoyed whining noises and casting Will an accusing look as if it were his fault.

“I did not pick the weather today,” Will hissed.

Tug’s accusing glare did not cease.  _ You could at least reward me with more carrots. I’m the one who has to carry your sorry butt. _

“I don’t  _ have _ any more,” came Will’s curt reply.

Tug huffed.  _ What kind of person doesn’t have carrots on them at all times? _

In front of them, Gilan brought out a carrot from within his cloak, reaching towards the front to feed it to Blaze.

_ See? He knows what he’s doing _ . Tug shook his mane indignantly.

Will rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you some when we get back, okay?”

_ Hmph. You should have bought some at the market yesterday. _

Will had no reply to that.

They had been on the road for about an hour when the wind picked up, howling wildly and batting at the hoods of their cloaks. Halt, who seemed to have predicted this predicament, had tied a string around his head, keeping his hood in place. The younger men did not have quite the same foresight.

With one hand, Will was clutching his hood, trying to fight off the wind and the cold, while his other hand held Tug’s reins. In front of him, he could see Gilan struggling to do the same.

Without warning, Gilan’s hood fell, exposing his dark brown hair. Gilan made an exasperated noise, a word exploding from his mouth, one that Will had not expected Gilan to be capable of.

Halt glanced at the two younger men amusedly. “Some Rangers you two are.”

“Well, sorry if not all of us have internal weather predictors,” Gilan said. He reached a hand behind him, trying to locate his flapping hood.

Suddenly, something hitt Will directly in the face, blinding him. It was dark brown in color and felt like a tangle of string or rope.

“What…!” Will exclaimed, spluttering as he tried to free his face. He grasped the object in his hands, instinctively flinging it aside. The wind caught it, carrying it away before any of them could go after it.

“Oops,” said Gilan, turning around to look at Will. All three horses, as if sensing entertainment was afoot, stopped in their tracks.

Will could only stare in shock, his mouth slightly open at the sight before him. He tried to connect the pieces together but it seemed his brain was no longer working.

“Sorry, Will,” Gilan said apologetically. “I should have warned you about this beforehand.”

Halt let out a loud howl of laughter as Will tried to stammer out a reply.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gilan said cheerfully. He reached into his bag and pulled something out--it was the mystery package from yesterday. Unwrapping it, Gilan revealed three objects, all styled the same but in different colors. One was brown, the other red, and the third blond.

“Which should I wear?” Gilan asked, grinning. He held them up one by one so Will could see them clearly. Finally, the pieces clicked in place as Will recognized them for what they were.

They were wigs.

Gilan was bald.

“You...you’re…” Will trailed off.

“Bald?” Gilan prompted. “Yes. Due to mysterious circumstances unbeknownst to anyone, I don’t have hair on my head. So, yes, I do wear wigs. If I don’t, my shiny bald head makes it tough to disguise myself and hide. In the dark, my head reflects the moonlight.”

“ _ What.” _

“Plus, this was a way better option than what Halt used to do when I was still his apprentice,” Gilan added. 

Will was too afraid to ask so he didn’t.

Gilan inspected the wigs in his hand. “You know what? I think I’ll go with the brown one again, just to not confuse the poor new apprentices at the gathering today.”

He put away all the others and went to put the brown wig on his head.

“Seriously, I much prefer wigs to Halt’s method of disguising my baldness.”

“Ah, good times,” Halt nodded appreciatively. “Those were masterpieces.”

“They were  _ hideous _ , Halt,” Gilan scoffed. “They did the job, but it was so time-consuming. You spent hours painting my head!  _ Hours!  _ And they ended up so ugly!”

Halt huffed. “Masterpieces, Gilan! I am an  _ artist _ ! You wouldn’t understand.”

Gilan rolled his eyes, adjusting his headpiece so that it looked natural, before putting his hood back on. “If I wanted an ugly painting on my head, I would have asked a three year old to do it.”

Halt harrumphed and urged Abelard forward. “No one appreciates my talent.”

“The talent of a child, sure,” Gilan said as Blaze followed after Abelard.

Tug turned to look at Will.  _ Are we moving or what? _

Will could only nod mutely.

There were some things that were better off never knowing. 


End file.
